Final Frontier
by Carrie L
Summary: In the days immediately following Voyager's return to Earth, several of the crew get more debriefing than they bargained for. AU in the sense that C/7 is played down.
1. Chapter 1

**Final Frontier**

**Chapter 1**

"I hope I'm doing the right thing by coming to you with this," Chakotay said as he settled into one of the elegant Le Corbusier chairs, wondering if it would really hold his weight. Kathryn's penthouse suite in the Presidio Starfleet officers' quarters had full-length windows overlooking the bay, with the low-slung chairs lined up at just the right angle to maximize the view. The attention to detail in every element of the décor was disorienting after so many years of familiar, worn shipboard interiors. It had only been a week, but he was starting to forget important things, things he wanted to remember, like the first flash of a new nebula on the view screen.

As the debriefings began to drag, it had recently occurred to him to wonder if he would ever see the inside of a Starfleet vessel again. Surely he was just being morbid. Nobody had suggested that field commissions would not be honored, or that the Maquis risked any sort of punishment. Yet they were all specimens under glass, that was clear. The questions were predictable and benign, but the silences that accumulated each day made him shift and stretch in his cushioned chair, trying to wake whatever body part had fallen asleep, trying to track the inquisitors' body language. The exhaustion every evening was like fighting off a coma, and because of it – and the issue he was coming to see her about – he'd had very little chance to talk with Kathryn. That weighed on him more than anything. He accepted the red wine she offered and held the delicate stem in both hands. "They sure pulled out all the stops for your quarters, didn't they?"

She hesitated as she lowered herself into the matching chair. "Aren't yours like this?" she asked, the concern immediate.

"Mine are fine," he assured her. "They're just not the presidential suite."

She frowned. "I should be keeping a better eye on what's happening with the crew. It's been debriefings all day and then every night some new dignitary to entertain. This is the first night since we disembarked that they haven't scheduled me for something."

"And here I am bringing you a problem," he said, offering her a repentant smile before tasting his wine. After so many replicated glasses, this real Earth wine, pounded out of grapes that had lived under a single, brilliant sun, tasted improbably fruity and exultant. He sipped again, reflecting on how easy it was to be present now that they were on Earth, how rich each moment was. "I'm sorry, Kathryn, we don't have to talk about it tonight. You need to rest."

"Ah, now that sounds like the old Chakotay," she said with a grin, lifting her own glass. "Oh, this is lovely. I'd forgotten how wine can taste like sunlight rather than replicating relays."

"It's like being newborn, isn't it?" Chakotay answered, examining the flesh on the back of his own right hand. "Everything I touch, taste, feel – it's brand new. I can't get over it. I'm not entirely convinced that it's real and not some kind of alien mind trick."

This made Kathryn laugh out loud. "If it's a trick, it's very good. They got all the cranky admirals just right. And at least I'm here with you, not some stranger I've been conditioned to like."

Quarra. The reference drew them both back into their own minds. Simultaneously they raised their glasses for longer sips of wine.

"A personnel issue, you say?" Kathryn began the original conversation again, relaxing into her chair to his right, stretching out her uniformed legs, the evening sky before them and the city lights blinking on below, descending to the bay. "Of course you did the right thing. They're still our crew, for a few more days anyway. Are they having a hard time with the debriefings?"

He shook his head. "Not most of them. They consider it a necessary step to getting on with their lives, and the partying carries on every night." He flashed her a quick grin and raised his glass to clink hers. She smiled in response and let her arm relax over the arm of the chair nearest him, but her face quickly settled back into seriousness.

"Then what is it?" she asked, examining his face for clues. He realized that she must think something was going wrong for him, maybe something in the debriefings, something about the Maquis or his service aboard Voyager. He felt a rush of adrenalin, that familiar eagerness to protect her, reassure her, but she wasn't completely wrong. This did involve him, in a way that might be uncomfortable.

He swallowed a good-sized mouthful of wine, took his empty glass in both hands, and sighed at the perfectly staged view before noticing an imperfection in the carpet where the seam was badly finished. There was nothing to do but say it. "It's Seven. I don't think I'm… qualified to deal with this on my own. I'd like your advice." He glanced over to see if any recognition registered. Perhaps Seven had already spoken to her. It would be natural.

But Kathryn sipped her wine without looking at him. Her shoulders fell a little. After Admiral Janeway's warning about Seven and Chakotay, she was a little afraid to hear what might come next, but she couldn't deny him her counsel and her friendship, no matter what was happening between him and Seven. "What's going on?" she asked, still without eye contact, minimizing her words, keeping her voice crisp and professional.

Chakotay settled the glass on the small black table before and between them. There was no way to sit up straight in the chair so he gave in to gravity and assumed the same lounging posture Kathryn had. "I think she's panicking, Kathryn. Nothing she remembers has prepared her for returning to Earth, and for some reason she's decided that I'm the one who should mediate everything for her." He paused to glance at Kathryn again, but she remained quiet and watchful, staring out over the city rather than answering his gaze, so he continued. "Every night when I get back from debriefings, she's there waiting. She used to like nothing better than to be left alone in Astrometrics, and now that she doesn't have that, she wants to talk every minute until it's time for her to regenerate. We debrief the debriefings. We review the Earth cultures database. She asks endless questions about human behavior." Chakotay let his chin slump toward his chest. "I'm exhausted, and I don't think all this is helping her. She's just getting more worked up about leaving here and having to interact with civilians."

"Have you suggested counseling sessions?" Kathryn asked in that disturbingly calm voice, still showing him only her profile. Her fingers played nervously around the stem of her wine glass, the only outward sign of tension. It was unlike her to be so detached. Her concern for the crew, and for Seven in particular, was one of her defining attributes. A seed of concern for Kathryn's well being made itself felt, somewhere in his chest. Surely the debriefings had been harder on her than anyone, with seven years of her command decisions under review. With Seven occupying his every spare moment, he'd had no time to go to Kathryn. It sounded as if Starfleet had been working her every waking moment. The thought angered him. He wanted to ask about her, but that wasn't what they were there to discuss.

"Of course I have. She refuses to go. She's convinced that Starfleet Medical will just want to dissect her, mentally or physically or both. They've got her using some special regeneration unit next door – she's not even assigned to real quarters. Maybe if you talked to her…" Chakotay suggested, leaning a little her way. "She trusts you. It might be good for both of you."

Kathryn smiled at her wine glass and tilted her head off to the right, away from him. Now Chakotay was sure that something was wrong. "She seems to trust you. She's not showing up at my door every night," Kathryn answered without any emphasis to her words.

Chakotay sighed and reached for the bottle Kathryn had left on the table. This was not going as he'd hoped. He had to put an end to Seven's dependency on him, in a way that wouldn't cause any more discomfort for her than necessary. He'd been counting on Kathryn's help, but in retrospect that seemed naïve. He knew that the crew were gossiping about him and Seven. What must she think? He needed to clarify the nature of the friendship for her. "She reminds me of my younger sister getting ready to leave for university, years ago. I was a newly commissioned officer, dead on my feet from work every night, and she'd call and want to have these endless conversations about what everything would be like. It's not a part of my life I'd hoped to relive." He was leaning toward Kathryn now, trying to draw her into the pose they'd held so often on the bridge, leaning together over the center command console. She was not playing along.

Kathryn crossed her legs away from him and set down her glass on the table a little harder than was strictly necessary. She gave him only a glance, no real eye contact. "I understand that it's difficult now, but if this is a relationship you want to pursue, it seems to me that you'll have to go through this phase with her. She needs you now."

Chakotay turned his head fully toward her at this. "A relationship I want to pursue? What makes you think this is a relationship?"

Kathryn's eyes flicked his way without resting on him, before returning to the view. "Isn't it? It's hard to keep secrets on a ship as small as Voyager, Chakotay." She seemed to change her mind about her glass, reached over and lifted it as if to drink, then hesitated and rested it on her knee. He noticed finally how controlled and closed her body language was: legs turned away from him, one hand fixed on the arm of the chair, the other stiffly posing her glass on her knee, chin up, eyes forward, not a hair out of place. She was giving a command performance in the guise of a friendly chat. His eyebrows came together in consternation.

"I don't know what you heard," he said, "but I've been giving her social lessons. The doctor asked me to help, several weeks ago. She started calling them dates so I did too, so that I wouldn't hurt her feelings. Trying not to hurt Seven's feelings, can you imagine!" He scoffed and leaned forward to refill her glass, trying to ease the charged atmosphere.

Kathryn held her pose and hesitated a long moment before speaking. "That's not exactly what I heard," she said, "but it doesn't matter. I'd be happy to help her find a more appropriate counselor. I'll see to it in the morning."

She was so perfectly composed that Chakotay began to feel nervous himself. He rotated his chair ninety degrees to face her more fully. He took her glass from her and set it beside his on the table.

"Thank you," he acknowledged her promise of assistance with his problem. That subject was over. "So, what exactly did you hear?"

Kathryn watched his rotation then leaned back into her chair with a dismissive wave of her left hand. "I told you, it's unimportant." She fixed her eyes on a tiny red light blinking on and off in the blackness down at the water's edge. "Of course, it's perfectly understandable that you'd want your freedom now that we're home. Everything has changed." Her voice was studied and every syllable perfectly enunciated, as if she'd rehearsed the words in her head. He had no memory of any situation where he felt as if she was acting out a role with him. Their interactions, even when angry, had always been so natural. This stilted performance from her unnerved him.

"Yes, everything has changed." He measured his words, looking for any reaction from her. Nothing. She was a sphinx. "But there's still only one person I'd want the freedom to go to." Chakotay was watching her, speaking in a voice so low that for a moment she wasn't sure what he'd said.

"Oh?" she said just as softly, holding her gaze on the distant light.

"Kathryn!" he exclaimed in frustration, reaching out and jerking the arm of her chair to swing her around to face him, knee to knee. The red wing of her hair swung against her cheek, her hands grabbed the chair arms, and her angry eyes came around finally to his. He thought he saw a nearly imperceptible quiver of her bottom lip. He had upset her. Good, at least it was emotion. But now he had Kathryn Janeway staring him down like a fierce caged animal. He sat back, suddenly unsure of the wisdom of pursuing this confrontation further.

"What do you want from me?" she hissed, gripping the steel frame of her chair. Her nostrils flared. She scared the hell out of him when she got like this, and he loved it. She was magnificent, Chakotay thought, and clamped down the desire to smile before it got him hurt. He inhaled deeply and brought his chin up as he exhaled.

"I don't want anything from you," he said in a clear voice, not missing the emotion that flashed across her face, emptying her features of anger and replacing it with something more hollow and vulnerable than he'd seen in years, before she mastered herself. That microexpression gave him courage. He held her eyes and spoke in the same confident voice, making sure she heard and understood this time. "I only want you to let me give you what I've wanted to give you all these years." At this, her eyes widened, so he leaned forward, placed his hands on hers where they still clutched the chair, and continued. "Let me love you, Kathryn. Give me a chance to give you the peace you've always given me. You deserve that. We both do."

Now there was emotion on her face for real. Her eyes dropped from his and she turned her head slightly to stare at a place on the floor, maybe that same bad seam that had distracted him. In the dim interior of the suite, he could see the city lights reflected in the tears gathering in her eyes. One escaped and traveled down her left cheek, just before her left hand escaped from under his and reached tentatively, blindly for him. He grabbed it and used the momentum to reel her in – hand, arm, torso, legs – onto his lap, wrapped up safely against him, her head tucked against his cheek. His heart under her hand was beating so fast that it startled her and she began to pat it in a soothing gesture.

"Shhh," she whispered, "it's okay. It's okay," not really sure what she was saying, but overwhelmed with the urge to comfort him after all they'd been through. A moment ago she'd been so angry, furious at him for bringing all this to her, forcing her to face whatever remained between them. Now, snug against him, the pulse of his anxiety and pain was all she could perceive. It broke her heart. She began to feel dampness on her temple. "No no, don't cry," she murmured, reaching up to wipe the tears. At her words and her tender gesture, he pulled her even closer, crushing her against him, choking out her name, at last letting out the emotion that had at times threatened to drown him from within.

"Chakotay!" she gulped, "Air!"

He loosened his grip and pulled his head back far enough to see her face. She had only seen him this way once, undone by emotion, stained by tears. That time, he thought she was dead. "Are you really here?" he asked in a strangled tone. "Is it really over, and we're alive, and together? Because I don't think I really believed this day would come."

She struggled a little to sit up better in his arms, at last showing him a genuine smile. She glanced down at their bodies, tangled in his chair. "Well, you certainly seem to have seized the day." The old, happy light she remembered rose in his eyes. His hand came up to her cheek and she leaned into the smooth plane of his palm as he smiled.

"I think I need some extra debriefing, Captain," he whispered, very close to her face. She couldn't help but chortle with laughter.

"Don't tell me you've been saving lines like that for 70,000 light years!" she exclaimed, kicking her heels as he started to laugh with her. "That's _terrible_! I may have to change my mind!"

He wrapped his arm back around her and lowered her to the arm of the chair. "Too late. I'm in command now."

She smirked up at him. "Oh, you think so?"

He tapped the end of her nose lightly with his, eyes black in the half light. "In our house, if nowhere else."

"Our house?" she repeated. He nodded with such certainty in his eyes that her breath hitched. "I like the sound of that," she said. He had no sooner laid his lips on hers, registered their shape and warmth with a rush of immense satisfaction, than the door chimed. Kathryn twisted away. "If you're here, where's Seven?" she whispered, and they both turned to look at the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Final Frontier**

**Chapter 2**

Kathryn leapt off Chakotay's lap as if she'd been caught reaching into a bank vault. He shook his head and stood with less panic, but a similar air of urgency.

"It's okay," Kathryn said, yanking down her uniform jacket and smoothing her hair. "I'll handle this." Behind her, Chakotay focused on not laughing at her split second transformation from the siren in his arms to the captain on the bridge. She strode to the door and opened it to reveal Voyager's Emergency Medical Hologram.

"Captain," he greeted her, brushing an imaginary hair off his impeccable uniform.

"Doctor. Is there a problem?"

"Aside from a Holographic Research staff that considers me its latest plaything? Yes, as a matter of fact. May I come in?

"Of course." Janeway stood aside as he entered and shut the door.

"Commander," the EMH greeted Chakotay. "I hoped you might be here. This concerns you both. It's Seven."

"Is she okay?" Janeway asked, returning to Chakotay's side. Just as they'd sat in their command positions in the chairs, they automatically resumed their accustomed pose before the Doctor, Chakotay solid and protective at her shoulder.

"I have her sedated at the moment, in her temporary alcove in the Cybernetics Lab next door. I was activated earlier this evening because she was having something of a… panic attack, and I am the only physician familiar with her physiology. Or, might I add, experienced enough in Delta Quadrant technology to understand what might be affecting her." He gave them his most supercilious smile.

"Yes Doctor," Janeway answered with a wry glance at Chakotay. "I'm very glad they called you. What triggered this panic attack?"

The Doctor paused and looked between the two officers, taking in the darkened room, the wine glasses, the chairs facing each other, and no doubt details of their physical condition as well. Janeway unconsciously smoothed her hair again.

"This is awkward," he said, "but she was waiting for Commander Chakotay in his quarters. When he didn't arrive at the expected time, she begin pounding on the doors of other crewmembers along the hallway, demanding to know why they were keeping him from her. She's insisting that…" the Doctor trailed off, staring at Chakotay with evident anxiety on his rather inexpressive face.

"Insisting what?" Chakotay asked, stepping forward to stand next to Janeway.

The Doctor took in Janeway's softened downward glance as Chakotay's hand brushed hers. He sighed and stood even straighter. "Commander, she's insisting that you and she are a bonded pair. She told me that you're engaged to be married."

"_Married?_" Their exclamation was loud and simultaneous.

"That's what I said!" the Doctor replied as Janeway turned to examine Chakotay.

"Do you know anything about this?" she asked, her hands moving to her hips.

"Me?" His hand slapped his own chest in a gesture of amazement. "I'm the one who's been trying to get her to talk to someone else for the last week! I certainly wouldn't have proposed as a way to make her more independent!"

"Well for some reason, she thinks you did!" Janeway roared back.

"Wait wait wait," Chakotay waved his hands and turned to the Doctor. "Doc, you said she was having a panic attack. She's obviously delusional. Did you scan her for unusual activity in her neural implants? Could she be malfunctioning? It wouldn't be the first time," he finished, with an emphatic look at Janeway.

"You're right," Janeway acknowledged, clamping a hand to her forehead as she began to pace. "Any signs of malfunction, Doctor?"

"As a matter of fact," the Doctor said, shifting on his shiny holographic feet, "I did recently make a few more changes to her neural inhibitor. She may be experiencing more intense emotion than she's accustomed to. But nothing that would explain this kind of behavior, I hasten to add! I'll need to run more scans." He pulled out a medical tricorder and began to make notations.

Chakotay began to speak, but Janeway cut him off.

"You mean to tell us," she said, wheeling to advance menacingly on the Doctor, "that in the middle of debriefings, at probably the most emotionally trying moment she's ever experienced, you've been tinkering with Seven's neural inhibitor?" Her voice rose to a shout as she spoke. "We're lucky she hasn't thrown herself out a window! No wonder she's been driving Chakotay crazy!"

"I wouldn't put it that way," Chakotay soothed, then turned to the Doctor. "She's just been very intense. The captain and I were talking about how to persuade her to talk to a counselor."

"That would be advisable," the Doctor agreed. "But I think there may be something else at work here. My brief scan of her implants indicates heightened activity. I almost wonder… but surely I would be notified."

"Notified of what?" Janeway asked.

"If Starfleet were, well, evaluating her Borg capacities in some way." The Doctor looked very uncomfortable. "And even if they didn't, surely Seven herself would have come to me. Did she say anything to you, Commander?"

Chakotay shook his head. "Nothing about that, or about changes to her neural inhibitor. But she seemed to be experiencing far more human reactions than normal. Or – not normal, we don't really know what normal is for her. More than she usually reacts to events, I should say. If it had been anyone else, I would have said she was manic, or using some sort of stimulant. It was like some of the episodes she's had in the past, like she was sped up somehow."

"That would be consistent with stimulation of her implants. But what you're saying is very worrying. It's as if – well, as if something has been done to her without her knowledge."

Those words brought the conversation to a halt. The three stood staring at each other, absorbing the idea. Janeway spoke first.

"Doctor, go to Seven. Stay with her, find out as much as you can about any alterations made to her implants or her human physiology. Any drugs in her system, that sort of thing. The Commander and I will sort this out if we have to drag a few admirals out of bed."

The Doctor nodded with satisfaction. "Yes, Captain. I'll report to you as soon as I have any new information."

"Doctor," Janeway added, "don't let her out of your sight. And set an alarm to notify me if your program is shut down for any reason. I don't like the sound of this."

"Aye aye, Captain."

As soon as the Doctor was out the door, Kathryn turned to Chakotay. "I knew something like this would happen. I should have seen it coming. They're experimenting on our crew already!" She jabbed a finger toward the door.

Chakotay stepped forward and gripped her gently by the upper arms. "Just wait a minute, Kathryn. We don't know that. The Doctor only has preliminary scans. It's possible that Seven's bodily chemistry is off-kilter because of something about returning to Earth's atmosphere, or just the trauma of so much change over the last few weeks. I don't think we should jump to conclusions."

Kathryn looked into his eyes and he forced himself to show her a calmness he didn't feel. She could very well be right, but it wouldn't help the situation for them to go charging out accusing people of nefarious medical experiments. They needed to reflect on the best course of action. He could persuade her of that. Her eyes shut and he knew she was considering his words. It was a better reaction than he'd gotten from her in any dispute in many months. Maybe it was the contact, his hands on her. He should've tried it earlier.

"That's true," she said, letting out her breath. "We've all been on edge, and Seven has more reason than any of us to panic about returning to Earth. Her evaluation team is led by Lieutenant Commander Hernandez. She's a medical doctor. Let me see if I can reach her." Kathryn moved a hand toward her com badge, but Chakotay's grip still restricted her. She settled her hands on his waist. "It's okay," she said with a nod. "We'll get to the bottom of this without getting us both cashiered out of Starfleet. I promise." He rubbed her arms and let her go with a soft kiss on her cheek.

When the com system put Janeway through, the voice that answered sounded young and enthusiastic.

"Seven of Nine is such an interesting case!" Lt. Commander Hernandez exclaimed in response to Janeway's first few questions. "We've been learning so much from her!"

"An interesting _case_?" Janeway repeated. "I thought you were debriefing her."

"Well, of course," Hernandez said with a nervous laugh. "It's just that she's not like anyone I've ever worked with. I've been staying here late every night writing up my notes and forwarding them directly to Admiral Hayes."

"Admiral Hayes has requested nightly briefings?"

"Yes. I - " Hernandez hesitated. "I thought you would know, Captain. I thought it was part of the approved debriefing protocol."

"Forgive me, Commander. Some of the details may have slipped my mind. Would you mind if I came by the lab this evening to discuss your findings?"

"Of course. I'm in the Cybernetics Lab next door to the officers' quarters." Hernandez gave directions and the Voyager officers set out on foot.

Seven was regenerating in her temporary alcove, the Doctor hovering nearby, when Janeway and Chakotay arrived.

"Your guess was correct," the Doctor said, showing them a tricorder readout. "Her implants have been altered and she's heavily medicated. Dr. Hernandez refuses to speak to me about it. She claims I lack the proper security clearance!"

"I'll speak to her," Janeway assured him. "Where is she?" The Doctor pointed toward a closed office door at the far end of the lab.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you for following! We'll get this wrapped up soon.

**Final Frontier**

**Chapter 3**

When Janeway pushed open the door, Dr. Hernandez was at her computer terminal. She was very young, with short black spiky hair and a blue tinge to her skin that suggested distant Bolean ancestry. "Hello Captain!" she exclaimed. "I'm so glad you could stop by. I'm getting some fascinating results from your Borg."

"My Borg?" Janeway said from the doorway, in a voice that Chakotay recognized as dangerously low.

Hernandez, oblivious, gestured at her monitor and waved Janeway over without any display of discomfort. "Yes! Her neurology is enough to base a career on! I can't tell you how excited I am to have her in the lab. It's not every post-doc who gets this kind of opportunity."

"You're a post-doc?" Janeway confirmed. Hernandez nodded. "Who's your research supervisor?"

"Stanislaw Topolski," Hernandez answered with obvious pride.

Janeway knew the name. Topolski had a reputation as a brilliant researcher who sometimes cut corners to get his results. "Where is he?" she demanded.

"He's been off world several months doing research at the Vulcan Institute. But I'll forward him all my initial data as soon as I've finished this report."

"Initial data on what?" Chakotay inquired. "I thought Seven was undergoing debriefings here."

"Oh, debriefings of a sort," Hernandez said with a laugh. "I've been downloading everything from her cortical node – unbelievable resource – and finding out how she responds to certain stimuli. These are completely unprecedented findings."

"_Stimuli_?" Janeway repeated. "What sort of stimuli?"

"Let me just draw up my research protocols." Hernandez clicked a few buttons on her console and the screen rearranged to display color images of Seven's brain. "I began with pharmaceutical reactions, to get a baseline for her body chemistry, then I started to make some subtle adjustments to her implants, and today I started hypnotherapy, to introduce new suggestions and evaluate her emotional range."

When Janeway looked over her shoulder at Chakotay, she saw his mouth hanging open the same way hers was. She turned back to Hernandez's screen. "I must be losing my mind," she said. "Seven gave you permission to do this?"

"Permission?" Hernandez asked with wide eyes. "No no, you don't understand, I was given full discretion by Professor Topolski and Admiral Hayes to evaluate her in any way necessary to understand her capacities and any potential threat she might pose. I assure you, I haven't harmed her in any way. This is purely for scientific purposes."

Janeway's spine got very straight. Her voice came out in the same kind of threatening hiss she'd used on the Hirogen when they'd demanded things she wasn't willing to give. "You've been experimenting on a human subject – a member of my crew – without her permission. You are in violation of Federation civil and criminal codes and the eighth protocol regarding research on sentient subjects." She slapped her combadge. "Janeway to Admiral Paris."

There was a long pause while Hernandez stared at Janeway with confusion and the very beginning of dawning horror on her face. "But… but," she began, "it was research on her cybernetic _technology_."

"You can argue that at your court martial," Chakotay snapped. At last, just as Janeway was reaching again for her combadge, Admiral Paris's voice brought the connection to life. "Katie? What's wrong?"

"Owen, I'm very sorry to disturb you, but you did say to contact you in case of any urgent matter with the crew during debriefings." Janeway announced.

"Yes. Yes, of course." The voice became instantly more alert. "What's happened?"

Janeway summed up Hernandez's experiments in brief, angry words. "I need security here immediately. Voyager's EMH is with Seven now, but I want this so-called Dr. Hernandez taken into custody before she can do any further harm."

"Stay where you are," Paris answered. "I'll be there with officers in 15 minutes."

As soon as Paris's voice disappeared, Hernandez moved instinctively toward her computer. "You will not touch a thing," Chakotay ordered, stepping between her and the console.

Janeway moved behind the desk chair and aimed it at Hernandez. "Sit," she commanded.

The woman folded her lab coat around herself and meekly obeyed, her hands beginning to tremble. "What will happen to me?" she lifted her eyes to Janeway beseechingly.

Janeway sighed and shook her head. "Assuming this is a first offence, Starfleet probably won't be too severe. But if Topolski and Hayes are really fully aware of what you've been doing and have allowed it," she glanced over at Chakotay, who had begun to click through screens of data, "well, that will be another matter."

The security officers accompanying Admiral Paris swiftly notified Dr. Hernandez of her legal rights and removed her from the lab. Janeway pulled Paris aside as the sound of footsteps retreated. "I hope you'll get to the bottom of this. It goes beyond her. She mentioned reporting to Professor Topolski and Admiral Hayes. And there seems to be a problem with treatment of our EMH as well. You _promised_ me, Owen, that my crew would be treated justly." She pinned him against the steel lab door with her eyes.

Paris glanced from her to Chakotay, who stood behind her like a cranky, red-shouldered wall, looking somehow taller than he had a moment ago. "I will go to my office tonight and resolve this," Paris told them. "There will be no further experimentation on your crew."

Janeway tilted her head and was giving him a grateful nod when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "One more thing, Admiral," she heard Chakotay say.

Paris's eyebrows shot up as he raised his chin to look Chakotay in the eye. The former Maquis remained very much an unknown quantity. "Yes?" Paris inquired.

Chakotay stepped in closer, hands on hips. "You've been working Captain Janeway every waking moment. She's no good to you exhausted, and we all know there will be public events following the debriefings when you'll want her looking healthy, not like a prisoner of war. She needs rest. Give her some leisure time." As Chakotay spoke, Janeway watched the admiral's face perform fascinating maneuvers at the younger man's angry tone and direct orders. She struggled not to smile.

Admiral Paris looked back and forth from Chakotay to Janeway a few times. Finally he asked Janeway, "So this is the sort of protection you've had from your first officer all these years?"

Janeway smiled at last and glanced sideways at Chakotay. "I wouldn't have survived without him, sir," she answered.

Paris nodded with a thoughtful look. "I see that. And you're right, Commander, we've been working her too hard. She will have her evenings free for the rest of the debriefing period. And I will look into reducing the daily hours. This has been a forced march and I see no real reason for it. We want to get you out of here quickly, but if it's become a burden, it's not worth it. Does that suit you?"

Chakotay dropped his hands and stood at attention. "Yes sir. Thank you, sir."

"No thanks required." Paris said a rather awkward goodnight, eyeing the two of them, then promised a swift prosecution of Hernandez. When he was out the door, they turned toward the near end of the room, where the Doctor had stepped up to make some final adjustments to Seven's cortical node before awakening her. He applied a hypospray to her neck and her eyes opened as Janeway and Chakotay moved closer. The Doctor was immediately in front of Seven, the first thing her eyes took in, and she stared at him as if she'd never seen him before. "_Doctor?_" she asked at last. He nodded. She looked around her then and saw Chakotay and Janeway watching from behind him like anxious parents at a sick child's bedside.

"Seven?" Janeway asked, stepping forward to put a hand on the younger woman's forearm. "Do you feel all right?"

Seven ran her hands up her own arms, as if literally testing how she felt. "I feel… calmer. Something has changed."

"Yes," the Doctor affirmed. "You're recovering from the effects of some fairly heavy psychotropic drugs, along with manipulation of your implants. You may suffer some - "

"Oh!" Seven cried out and staggered to her left, where the Doctor stepped in to support her. "My head!"

As she gripped her forehead, the Doctor lifted another hypospray to her neck. "As I was saying," he announced, "withdrawal from the drugs may cause headaches and bodyaches. I will stay with you to provide medication as needed."

"Thank you," Seven said. "Commander, will you stay too?"

Chakotay hesitated and cleared his throat. Janeway, who was closer, patted Seven's shoulder. "I think it's better that the Doctor ride this out with you, Seven," she said. "The Commander and I will visit in the morning and talk more about what's happened. I expect you'll want to press charges against Dr. Hernandez. She's committed some very serious crimes against you."

Seven's confused eyes moved between Janeway and Chakotay, as if she was trying to remember something. "Charges? I don't understand. No," she began, but faltered. "I don't want the Doctor. I want Commander Chakotay. He – he belongs with me. We are … we are going to be married."

The Doctor flinched but erased the expression instantly. Janeway took her hand from Seven's shoulder and swallowed audibly. "I'm sorry, Seven. We speculate that the idea of an – " she paused before pronouncing the word, "_engagement_ between you and Commander Chakotay was a false memory implanted by Dr. Hernandez during unauthorized hypnosis. She was experimenting on you, altering your perceptions to elicit certain reactions, to test the interface between your human physiology and your Borg implants. Some of the experimentation involved post-hypnotic suggestion. It was unconscionable. She will be court-martialed for her actions, and it will take some time for you to recover fully. I'm so sorry that this happened. I should have been more vigilant."

Seven's expression of bewilderment began to morph into anger. She looked Janeway up and down, straightening so that she towered over the smaller woman next to her. "Why are you saying these things? Why do you want to come between us? Chakotay, tell her the truth. Tell her!"

Seven pushed past Janeway, reaching for Chakotay's hands, but he gently shook his head. "She's telling you the truth, Seven," he said, holding her hands between his and patting them in a paternal gesture. "I'm sorry this was done to you, but things were never like that between us. We are… friends, nothing more."

Seven's hand went to the implant at her temple. "I have memories. Memories of us together… intimate memories." She looked up at him in consternation, then toward Janeway. "All this is _false?_ How can I know what is real?"

The Doctor moved forward and carefully turned Seven away from Chakotay, but she clung to one of Chakotay's hands. "I have treatment protocols to undo the damage," the Doctor said. "The false memories will be wiped. But it didn't seem right to perform the treatment without explaining to you what's happened and getting your consent. I didn't want to violate you again."

Seven finally released Chakotay and backed away from the three friends who watched her with such concern. "I see. I – I apologize for any discomfort I have caused you, Commander. Please, implement the treatment immediately. I no longer wish to experience these… false emotions." She turned away with a confused, embarrassed expression.

Chakotay took a small step toward her but the Doctor raised a hand toward him and shook his head emphatically. He stepped briskly between his patient and the visitors. "I think it's best that I take over from here," he told them. "This is difficult enough without the implanted emotional connection she's suffering. I'll contact you first thing in the morning with an update on her condition."

"Thank you, Doctor," they said in unison and moved slowly toward the door, watching Seven with troubled, sideways glances. Chakotay stepped behind Kathryn into the hall and pulled the door shut without a sound. She sagged against the wall. "If this is what your nights have been like," she said, "I have every sympathy."


	4. Chapter 4

**Final Frontier**

**Chapter 4**

Chakotay blew out a long breath. "No, this has been a whole new level of crazy," he admitted, taking support from the wall himself. "Safe and sound at home, right?"

"No kidding. What time do you think it is?" she asked.

"O'dark we should be in bed," he joked, then ducked his head with an embarrassed smile at the amused look on her face. "The display on Seven's regeneration unit said 0135."

They were quiet until their smiles subsided. Awkwardness floated between them.

"Nightcap?" he said at last.

"I wouldn't say no," she answered and accepted the arm he offered. They moved toward the wide front doors of the laboratory building in no particular hurry. Kathryn stifled a yawn as the doors opened.

"Maybe I should let you get some sleep. Somehow I thought this thing with Seven would be an easy one for you to resolve. I should have known better," Chakotay said as they stepped outside into the misty early morning darkness and the permeating scent of eucalyptus.

"Do you honestly think," came the soft voice at his shoulder, "that I'm letting you go without talking about what went on earlier this evening?"

He would have showed her his dimples if she'd been looking, but in spite of her forthright words, she was examining the ornamental grasses between the labs and the residential structure. "I was rather hoping you wouldn't," he answered.

"Wouldn't what?" she asked in sincere confusion, still facing forward as they walked but finally looking up at him.

"Wouldn't let me go," he said, meeting her blue eyes with the same gaze of radiant certainty he'd shown her a few hours ago. Her face changed, opened.

"How do you do that?" she asked.

"Do what?"

"How can you look at me like that, like nothing's happened?" she said, putting her other hand on his arm. "I was afraid you'd have had enough of me for one lifetime, and you look at me like we'd just been – oh, I don't know, walking along the beach hand in hand all this time. How can you not be changed?"

He'd opened his mouth to answer her when the doors to the residential complex slid open. The elderly doorman looked up. "Good evening Captain, Commander," he said automatically, taking in their famous faces with a good imitation of disinterest as they moved silently to the turbolift. Once inside, they stayed quiet, awkward with each other again. Her door was one of four opening onto the small turbolift vestibule in the center of the top floor. She stepped forward, put her palm to the entry pad to open her door, and gestured him inside. They stopped as the door slid shut.

"It's not that I'm unchanged," he said at last. He reached down for her right hand, testing its weight and warmth with his, remembering the handful of times he'd held it, how he'd wondered if he ever would again. "And it's not that I haven't made mistakes. We've hurt each other. I haven't forgotten. But," his voice caught and he paused to press her hand to his chest. "I look at you now, Kathryn, after everything we've been through, and suddenly I remember why we fought so hard to get home."

She swallowed hard. "That may be," she said, looking down again, as if she didn't trust herself to meet his eyes, "the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

He took her chin in his right hand and brought her head up so that he could see the tears she was fighting so obstinately. "If it really is," he told her, brushing his lips across the bridge of her nose, "it won't be for long." And he leaned in to take the first real, sweet kiss from her lips.

When they pulled apart, she sighed deeply and rested her head on his chest, letting her arms sneak around him. "Just this," she said into the black gabardine.

"Just this?"

"Yes," she nodded against him. "So many times out there, all I wanted was this, just to put my arms around you and lay my head right here. Oh this feels good."

He snugged his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, then kissed it a few more times just because he could, and her hair was soft and smelled better than anything he'd ever been near. "You could have, you know," he whispered. "I would have been happy to hug the captain as much as necessary."

She chuckled. "I know you would have." She pulled away enough to see his face. The tears were gone, but her face had changed. Something hard had dropped away. To him, she looked much more like herself. "But it would have been acknowledging a relationship that I could never pursue any further, not out there. I couldn't bind you to me, even that much, when that was all I could offer you. It wouldn't have been fair."

Chakotay's jaw tightened and he looked up and away from her, taking in the black sky beyond the windows. Here she was, finally held close, and still talking about the proper distance between them. This woman was going to drive him mad forever, if he was lucky.

"If you want me to endorse your decision, well," he shook his head and looked back to her. "I won't. You never let me decide what was fair. I would have been happy with something well short of an intimate relationship – well, maybe not happy, but reasonably content – if you'd just let me in far enough that we could comfort each other like this. I was so starved for touch. You were too. I know it. It caused far more trouble than it prevented, staying apart the way we did." His hands had fallen to her waist and he held her there, his fingers almost reaching each other around her narrow middle.

She pressed her lips together. "But don't you see, it couldn't have stayed that way. Once we were like this - " she rubbed his back to emphasize their physical connection, "it would have become a game. How far can we go? Where are the limits? Why are there limits? Those infernal _parameters_ you so dislike. It would have destroyed our friendship." She dropped her eyes. "I was afraid it had destroyed our friendship anyway."

He had no wish to argue with her. All that was over, although a game of _How far can we go? _ sounded pretty damn good right now. He leaned forward to touch his forehead to hers. "It's in the past, Kathryn." They stood like that for a long moment, absorbing each other's scents, feeling the warmth they had denied themselves seeping through the thick wool blend of their uniforms.

"So tell me about this house," she said at last.

"House?" he said, baffled.

"You said earlier," she dipped her head then smiled up at him, "that you would be in command in our house. Not an apartment, not a ship – a house. Like you'd thought about it and decided on a house."

He grinned and took her by the waist with one arm to walk her toward the windows and the sparkling view. "I didn't have anything very particular in mind. Just a place big enough for all the children."

He was rewarded by her low laughter. "And where are you planning to get all these children?"

He pulled one of her hands to his mouth and kissed it. "First things first. I have to seduce their mother."

She wiggled her fingers against the stubble on his jaw. "If your seduction techniques involve more debriefing jokes…" she began, but he silenced her by almost lifting her off her toes for another kiss, more demanding than the first. "Well," she said with a sharp intake of breath when he lifted his mouth from hers, "that's an improvement on your technique."

"Glad to hear it," he said, turning his head to look for the door into the adjoining bedroom that must exist, ready to sweep her up and carry her away. Then he felt her pull away a little and looked back, instantly alert to a change in her mood. He had waited – _they_ had waited so long for this. From one heartbeat to the next, he found himself terrified that something would yet happen to shatter the crystalline perfection of this moment. "What is it, Kathryn? Are you okay?"

She smiled a little – that was a relief – but glanced off toward the night sky again, fingering the shoulder seam of his uniform. "I don't know how to say this," she told him, "I feel a little ridiculous…."

"Whatever it is, it's okay," he said. He could feel her shoulder blades through the back of her uniform, reminding him just how slight she was. He marveled again at how much this small person could endure, and achieve. He couldn't imagine anything she could say that he couldn't solve for her, for them. "Just tell me."

Kathryn swallowed and looked up at him without raising her head, then down again. "I'm nervous."

Chakotay was glad she couldn't see his smile as he leaned in to kiss the top of her head. He of all people should know that she wasn't the sum of her publicity, that she had vulnerabilities, that she was in fact _human_ underneath the public persona that had media vans lined up outside Starfleet headquarters every hour of the day and night for the last week, angling for a glimpse. She was too good at showing no weakness. She'd even made him forget, especially in this last hour as she'd once again charged out to save a crewmember, abandoning the turmoil in her own life and mind the moment duty called. He looked around for something less awkward than the Le Corbusier chairs, where he could draw her down to him, cradle her, speak soft, gentling words, but there was nothing. The penthouse implicitly communicated that it was not a place for cuddling.

Kathryn shifted in his arms, and he realized that his extended reflection wasn't helping matters. He kissed her forehead and said, "Let's get out of here."

"What?" she exclaimed. Now she was looking at him fully, confusion mapped across her face, and something he'd seen in her too rarely to be sure that he'd identified it correctly: fear. He cupped her face in one hand.

"This place," he gestured to the elegantly appointed penthouse, with its marble walls and platinum fixtures, "it's making me nervous too. Let's go to my quarters. They're a little more… humble," was the word he settled on. "More like us."

The word "us" restored the smile to her face. He slid his hand down her arm and gripped her hand to lead her back to the turbo lift. She came willingly, following him in almost the same position he'd occupied so often with her, snug at his shoulder. This was so strange to him, this Kathryn who seemed unsure of herself, that he found himself glancing back at her as they crossed the room. Right now there was something about her almost like – and the thought nearly stopped him in his tracks – Seven. He glanced back again and the answering warmth in her eyes strengthened him. No, not like Seven, not inexperienced and uncertain, but a wise, grown woman afraid of putting her most valued friendship on the line, right now, for a future she could not see clearly. He could relate to that.

The trip to his floor was short and the hallway mercifully empty. Neither of them was in any condition to explain why they were hurrying to his quarters, hand in hand, in the wee hours. When the door slid shut behind them they stood looking at the far less intimidating furnishings: a desk and chair, a small couch, and a view toward the city rather than the bay.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yes," she acknowledged with a firm nod, "although you know, that's not really what was bothering me."

They were simply standing side by side, still holding hands. He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles but made no other move toward her. "Do you want to talk about it?" he wondered.

She squeezed his hand. "I don't really know what to say. Just that this has been so long in coming – I didn't really think it would come, after a while. I don't know how… I don't know how to be someone else with you. What if this is a complete disaster? Ahh!" she cried, letting go his hand and pacing a few steps forward, one hand to her forehead and the other on her hip in one of her classic dilemma poses. He could almost number them. "What's wrong with me? This is so unlike me. You must think they've drugged me too!"

He stayed where he was. Let her come to him, when she'd fought off this demon. "No. I think you've borne more than anyone should be expected to bear. And now that the possibility of a different life is in front of you, the idea of letting go of what's kept you alive the last seven years is too much."

"What's kept me alive the last seven years?" she echoed without turning around, letting her hands drop. "What's that? My own stubbornness?"

He took a few steps forward to stand even with her. "No, Kathryn. It's us. The team that we are together. That's what got this crew home. And I'll admit, if I thought that going through that door," he gestured with his head toward the bedroom, "carried any real risk of destroying that team, I'd be afraid to do it too."

Kathryn's eyes followed his to the dark opening into the bedroom.

"The final frontier," she murmured with a little laugh.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Oh nothing," she said, offering him a tentative smile. "Just something Picard liked to say in his lectures." Finally she turned to him. "Nothing we faced out there scares me half as much as the possibility of losing you. I realized that when I thought you were getting involved with Seven. I was willing to turn myself inside out, maintain any kind of façade, no matter how painful, so long as I didn't have to face a future without you." She said the words with her usual, casual bravery, head high, but such a look of sadness that his kind, expressive eyes filled with tears. He put his hands on her shoulders, pressing his fingertips into the back of her neck to make her shoulders relax and her head loll gently to one side. "Oh," she moaned, "how do you always know just how to do that?"

He stepped in to bring his lips level with her ear. "Kathryn," he whispered, "I will never willingly be parted from you. We're in a dangerous line of work and I know we'll both face risks, but this," and he pulled back just enough to place another sweet, perfect kiss on her lips, "is a sure thing. Okay?"

Her eyes cleared and she nodded. "Okay." The unwelcome, unfamiliar emotions were still there, welling up in her, but she trusted him. He had followed her, and she had followed him, into greater danger than this. And he was right. If there wasn't safety here, beside him, then there wasn't safety anywhere. This was one risk she had to take, for all the other risks to be worthwhile. He turned her with one arm and led her across the room, under his arm, close to his heart, through the darkened doorway, into the future.


	5. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The only light came from the cityscape outside. They paused at the foot of the bed that filled most of the room. She let out a small but genuine… giggle. His eyebrows shot up and his head snapped toward her. This was certainly a night of firsts.

"You want to let me in on the joke?" he asked with an astonished smile. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle another giggle.

"It's just that, after all that time fantasizing about luring you into my bed on Voyager – it struck me funny that it's some strange, new bed that gets to do the honors."

He looked at the amusement dancing in her eyes – this light, girlish new Kathryn who could _giggle_ at something so silly – and began to laugh himself. When she heard his deep, happy laugh, she sat down on the end of the bed and gave herself up to the laughing fit, lying back and roaring with the absurdity of everything they'd been through. "My ready room! That perfectly good desk you never once managed to bend me over!" That sent him off into gales of laughter, the idea that the desk itself had been crying out for a little command team nookie.

He dropped onto the bed and laid back, hands settling at his middle as laughter overcame him. "Think of the turbo lift!" he chortled. "It's still wondering when I'm going to push you up against a wall and have my way with you."

"The Jeffries tubes! Oh Chakotay, all those lost opportunities!" She was on her back wiping away tears of laughter by now. She turned her head toward him. "I wonder if we could concoct an excuse to be alone on board before they recommission her. Make up for lost time."

He rolled onto one side and put an arm across her. "I'm not sure an old man like me has that kind of stamina."

She reached up to caress his jaw. "You may require a strict training regimen, Commander."

She loved the playfulness in his eyes as he rolled her under him. "And I suppose you think you're the woman to whip me into shape?"

"Oh I do hope so," she said, just before his lips came down on hers and his hand boldly went where it had never gone before, underneath all three layers of uniform to explore the lace of her bra. The fabric bunched uncomfortably under her arm. She grunted and slid out from under him to struggle with her jacket zipper. "These things are Starfleet-issue chastity belts, you know," she said and followed up with a curse as the zipper snagged on the fabric half way down.

He took her jacket by the hem, pulled it over her head, and tossed it over one shoulder. Then he reached for the back of her neck, and she felt his hands carefully lowering that zipper, watching the results as the shirt fell away from her neck, her shoulders, her chest, her arms, to reveal the snug tank top. "I never had any trouble getting one off a woman," he replied with a grin, making short work of his own zipper and shrugging off his jacket.

She slapped his arm. "This is not the moment to remind me how far I am down your list of conquests, Commander. If you can remember my name, that is." She tossed her hair and faced him with the same air of challenge she'd had that first day when he beamed onto the bridge. He couldn't wipe the grin off his face. She _was_ magnificent.

He shook his head with an air of mock regret and sighed. "I honestly can't tell you where you are on that list, Kathryn."

Her hands went to her hips. "Oh? Why not?"

He reared up on his knees and took her face in both hands, leaning over her to speak eye to eye. "Because, my beautiful, infuriating, intoxicating captain – there is no more list."

"No?" She gave him a suspicious look. "Since when?"

He smoothed her hair with one hand and memorized the shape of her skull, the perfect balance of it. "Since whatever time it was when you agreed to our house, woman. Since then."

She gave him an innocent little smile. "Did I agree to that?"

He pushed them over sideways and brought her laughing down on top of him. "That and much more."

Kathryn pulled back just enough to pull up his shirt. She lowered her head to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I thought we'd never really get here, you know," she whispered, her voice catching.

"Home here, or _here_ here?" he asked, patting the cotton bed cover under them.

She rested her hand on his belly. "Oh, I knew we'd get home, or die trying. But you and I…" she choked a little on her words, then smiled. "This is too much. We're going to offend the gods." Her voice was teasing, but he saw the sincerity in her eyes. After everything they'd been through, she still didn't believe she deserved this.

He ran a hand down her arm. "I won't tell if you won't." He sat up enough to pull his shirt over his head. When his shirt hit the floor, she just sat there with a watchful expression. He covered her hand with his. "If this is too much, Kathryn, we don't have to. I don't want anything from you that you're not ready to give."

She straightened her shoulders. "If that's the impression I'm giving, then I'm _really_ out of practice at this. Chakotay – " she said his name in that carefully articulated way he had always loved, caressing each syllable, then ran a hand down his bare chest to settle where he had hardened under his trousers, her eyes following the progress of her hand across his skin with a look that nearly stopped his breath. "If I have to wait any longer for this, I might need medical treatment."

His restraint evaporated. He pushed her back and let his lips fall to her neck, her collarbone, the notch of her perfect throat, as he pushed her tank up and slid it past her arms to join the pile of garments beside the bed. Their boots hit the floor in four syncopated thumps. She had unfastened his trousers and was trying to grab enough fabric to push them down as his lips slid lower, onto the flesh of the tops of her breasts, flattened by a snug regulation bra.

He pulled the bra down a little to tattoo her breast with kisses. "And all this time," he murmured, "I was imagining you wearing the naughtiest things under that uniform."

She sighed at the sensation of his lips marking a path across her chest. "Sometimes I was."

He paused and picked up his head to see her face. "Really?" he inquired with undisguised interest. "What happened to them?"

Her eyes remembered the sadness they had shown a few minutes ago. "Oh, they're packed somewhere," she waved vaguely. "I think I gave up, just a little. Gave up thinking of myself as a woman."

"Kathryn," he told her as he reached under her to unfasten the bra with an expert twist of his fingers, "you will always be more than enough woman for me. And first thing tomorrow, we go through your storage container."

END


End file.
